


Ties

by WendyNerd



Series: Switch [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: BDSM, Begging, Bondage, F/M, Kink, Male!Dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:28:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a prompt asking for a Dominant!Jon with some bondage!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties

At this point, he’s probably spent a king’s ransom on silk scarves and ribbon. But if the look on his face when he sees them about her wrists and ankles are any indication, he considers that a bargain.

Sansa lies on her back, down to her smallclothes and stockings, upon the bed. Blue silk ribbons are tied about her wrists with neat bows, and bound around two bars on their bed’s headboard. She is comfortable, all things considered, lying atop their red satin coverlet.

Most of all, she’s excited. She loves being helpless before him. There’s this odd security in it, after years of threats. She can now be utterly at a person’s mercy, and only ever get exactly what she wants.

What she wants now is currently standing by their window overlooking the garden, silver cup of wine in hand. He feigns indifference, but she knows he’s watching her image reflected in the windowpanes.

Her king is naked, and the display of confidence he shows in walking to a window nude thrills her. Even if the chances of anyone seeing him are nonexistent, she still enjoys it. But then, her king has an inclination for… display… after his time with the wildlings. He coupled with his first lover, Ygritte, in their furs with their raiding party only a few yards away.

But what did he have to be ashamed of? He was king, and a man as virile and finely-made as any. His body was well-muscled, and his man’s staff, from her limited experience, was even fine to look upon by the standards one could judge a man’s sex. It stands proud and upright now, peeking out from the thatch of coarse dark hair. She is his wife, and there is no more smiled upon union than a man and wife having congress in their marital bed.

Granted, their styles of coupling could sometimes perhaps defy the norm, but she doubted the gods were overly-concerned with that.

Sansa waits for him, with as much patience as she can. The wait is part of the thrill of it. She has already started growing wet between her legs—- seeing her husband naked often was enough. She likes the way the muscles of his back and arms ripple beneath his skin and the curve of his backside. He had her strip him before he tied her up, because he is a sweet and kind king who know what his Good Girl wants. And that was to caress him as she slowly dragged his clothing off.

Now, they wait for each other. And finally, she gives in and calls out. “My King…”

He turns and smiles at her. “Yes, Sweetling?”

She blushes. “I want you.”

“You want me to what?”

She groans. But this is part of the game. “I want you to come here and make love to me, please.”

Sansa is a good girl, who always remembers her courtesies.

“But you’re wearing your smallclothes. How am I to make love to you with cloth in the way?”

She reddens even more. “If you would remove them first, please. And I…”

“—Yes?” He comes closer to the bed. With every step, she feels her body temperature rise.

“I would have you kiss me all over, Your Grace. And stroke me. And tease me. And make me beg for you. Please.”

“Beg for me what?” He bends over now, his mouth hovering over her breasts. She can feel his breath on her right nipple. She squirms.

Oh! She is ready to kill him for that! “Beg for you to put your… your man’s staff inside me.”

“Inside you where? Your mouth?”

“If it pleases you. And my… my… my cunny.”

“Ah, I see. My Good Girl wishes to get fucked.”

“Yes. Very much so, Your Grace.”

“Yes, very much what?” He loves to make her curse. His tongue darts out and lashes at her hardened nipple. She whimpers.

“Yes, I very much wish for you to… to… fuck me.”

There’s a sharp intake of air. Whether it’s from her or him, she can’t tell. All she knows is that at long last, his mouth is planted on her skin, at the hollow of her throat, and his hands are running up and down her sides. And the world bursts into flame.

It’s all skin and sweat and mouths. A little teeth when he reaches her breasts and nibbles at them. When his hands find her sex and the little bud within, her toes curl. She yearns to thread her fingers through his hair, to push his head down. She loves that she can’t.

Her legs spread eagerly for him as he inches his way down her body. He chuckles. “Eager, are we?”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss…” She hisses, bucking her hips.

The waist of her smallclothes, bound by pretty blue ribbons, is between his teeth. And soon, after a harsh tearing sound, they are no longer encasing her abdomen. She cries out, so gloriously bare. Her king chuckles some more, and tortures her by moving to lick and kiss her thighs, holding her bucking hips down.

“Please, My King, Please…. Please… Lick my cunny, fuck me…. Please….”

He growls and grants her request, parting her soaking folds and latching onto her bud. She thanks the gods that he hasn’t chosen to bind her ankles today, and her thighs giddily clamp themselves down around his head. This doesn’t deter him, and it’s only when she’s boneless that he pushes them apart and rises up to kiss her and position himself.

“What do you want?”

“Your… Your…” she gasps, “Your cock inside me.”

He gives her a little kiss on her lips and whispers, “Good girl…”

And she is filled. He rides her rough, hard and fast, and she urges him to go harder, her legs wound about him and her body still desperate. He seizes her mouth with his and her cries melt into his mouth.

At one point, his hands find hers, and he yanks so hard the silk rips. Her hands find his back, his hair, his arse. Her peak comes like a clap of thunder. She begs him to spill within her. He denies her nothing, and they both collapse.

When her ability to breathe normally is regained, she climbs atop him. “You didn’t use my mouth.”

Jon’s eyes flutter open. “Last time I did that when you were in that position, your neck bothered you for three days.”

She unties her wrists and shows him the red marks. “And you think these are going away in an hour? You denied me. And I was such a good girl for you!”

Jon’s lips curl. “Well, it seems I will have to be punished for this. But who can punish a king?”

“Only his queen.” And with that, she yanks the remains of the ribbons taut, and makes for his wrists.


End file.
